City of Devils
by x Ruby Dust x
Summary: Acelynn Faust recieves and unexpected 'welcome' once returning to LA. Don and his team get the call the crime scene, throwing him back into a relationship that was ubruptly halted sixteen years ago. REDONE!
1. Prologue: The Attack

**Prologue**

**The Attack **

For Acelynn Faust, the day had just seemed to endlessly drag on. She was new to Los Angeles, and, after a year of living in the heart of the city, she still had no idea which way was up. After being lost for forty five minutes, all she wanted was to go back to her one bedroom, one bath apartment, fall on her bed, and fall asleep.

Finally in her building, though, there were several things that she neglected to notice. For one, the door to the building was wide open. She didn't have to fish around in her purse to find the keys her building supervisor had given to her. It was odd, because the super had made it clear that leaving the ground floor door open was a proverbial "no no". Second, Acelynn was so tired that she completely ignored the fact that her own door was also wide open to anyone who passed by.

It wasn't until she was in her apartment, finally forced to focus all her attention on the random chaos littering the once polished wooden floor and all surrounding surfaces, until she realized that something was desperately wrong. Piles upon piles of books, clothing, magazines, photos, wrappers, and other obscure garbage lay askew at her feet.

She tried to take the whole picture in, although there was just too much for her to concentrate on at the same time. Acelynn bent down, trying to sort out the small details. Directly in front of her was a picture from her childhood, herself as a young girl.

Her eyes traveled north, following a trail of other photos from her childhood. Photos that had been stashed away in the back of her closet, in an old shoe box. She picked up the next one, and the next one, and the next one, each one framing a detailed event in her life. One where she was smiling from ear to ear, and ice cream cone firmly clutched in her hand. One where she was screaming, a little boy throwing a water balloon. Several of her and two other children, the water flinging boy and another girl. Then it got into the later years. Junior high, senior high. One right after another.

She stopped and rose to her feet. It was odd. Everything around her seemed to be just carelessly thrown from its organized place, but the pictures were in a line. It was almost as if whoever robbed her had taken the time to look through the pictures, then toss them to the floor as he traveled.

Her gaze left the floor, seeing a shadow cast across the mess. A gangly figure in overly baggy clothes was still inside her apartment, staring at her. Leaning in the doorway to her bathroom, hugging the frame in a desperate attempt to keep upright. Uncertain eyes darting to the open door, then to Acelynn and back, gaping for a way out.

Another more burly, muscular figure appeared behind the first, photo in hand. "Who's the guy?" a deep voice asked, flashing the picture before her eyes. She recognized the captured memory instantly. She was fifteen, in her high school parking lot with her best friend.

"What?" Acelynn managed to vocalized, finding herself unable to move. Other sounds made their way from her vocal cords, through her throat, and passed her barely pursed lips in the form of gasps and squeaks. "What do you want?" she asked, although she was really wondering why her security alarm wasn't screaming for help in its shrill, mechanical wail.

A smirk danced across his face, his mask hiding the corners of his mouth. He lunged at her, his grubby hands dropping the picture and grasping the air before her. She struggled against him as he overpowered her, pushing her to the floor with all his strength. The accomplice stood dormant in the doorway.

He managed to manipulate her so that he was sitting on her torso, his sheer size pinning her no matter how hard she fought. He reached into the back of his jeans, his hand placed delicately on the handle of a .45 ACP. His fingers passed over the trigger several times, then he pulled out the gun. His smile crooked and deepened on his mask. "Now you're going to be a good girl, right?"

He pointed the weapon towards her, letting a high-pitched giggle emanate, then die, in his throat. He motioned to his accomplice, handed over the gun, and held a finger to his smile to instruct her to be quiet. The accomplice crumpled to the floor, legs folded and hands shaking. The gun was pointed at Acelynn's head.

Her heart started racing faster than she would have thought possible. In her panic, her senses started failing. All but her sight. All sounds went away, except for the beating of her own heart - and, of course, the internal praying she was doing.

Her attacker continued his advance, pushing her harder into the floor. He dared to get in her face, press his forehead against hers. She tried to scream, but he once again signaled for her to remain silent by pointing to the gun and his seemingly useless cohort. Then, he reached behind his back and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

He grabbed her wrist, squeezing as hard as he could, to fasten one end of the handcuffs. He forced her into the bedroom, her wrist snapping and her shoulder dislocating as she tried to pull herself away.

Angered by her refusal to cooperate, he reached out and grabbed her face, throwing her onto the bed where he fastened her other hand.

Tears were staining her high, powdered cheekbones. Her mascara began to bleed from the flow, but her captor seemed to just find it amusing. He brushed his fingers though Acelynn's hair, wiping tears away from grey, fearful eyes. The smirk appeared again as he unzipped his jeans and allowed them to drop around his ankles. As she watched him position himself on top of her, pinning her legs down so she could no longer kick, her old instincts kicked into overdrive.

He kissed her cheek, then made his way down her neckline. Acelynn writhed in disdain and disgust underneath him, which only seemed to give him more pleasure. He hugged her close to him. So hard, he seemed to be cutting off her lungs from the life-giving oxygen that she had started choking on.

Trying to get past it, trying to save herself, Acelynn began pulling at her bonds as hard as her dislocated and cracked wrist would allow. All the while, she was trying her best to scream. She thought that if she was loud enough, one of her neighbors might come asking questions. Or better yet, someone might call the cops. It was a long shot, at best. Most of her neighbors were elderly and hard of hearing. It was a hopeless effort, but an effort nonetheless.

Yanking and jerking her arms in awkward positions, Acelynn finally began to believe that she might be giving herself a chance when she finally heard - and felt - the delicate crunch of her thumb knuckle sliding up into her hand. She was able to slide her hand out of the cuff with minimal effort now, although it cause her more pain than she would have thought. The sheer agony running up and down her entire arm didn't - couldn't - phase her in this place and time. She still had work to do. After all, there were still two unwelcome people in her apartment.

Trying to reach over and unhook her other cuff was another matter, though. Trying to move her wrist and thumb sent excruciating pain shooting up to her shoulder, which responded with its own blinding pain. She screamed as loud as she could, unintentionally.

"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!" her attacker yelled in a blind rage, hitting her across the face. He moved on to continue his business with a rough, more threatened tone and vigor. She squeeze her tiny body as close to the side of the bed as possible, while her assailant continued his speedy advance.

With one hand free, Acelynn reached for the gun.

The cowardice of the dormant assistant had shown through, struggling with he handle of the gun in a nervous rage. The gun discharged, hitting her attacker in the leg. Her attacker buckled at the knee, falling off the bed and rolling in his own, liquid crimson anguish that was not sprayed on the garbage laden floor.

Acelynn took hold of her pure instinct and grabbed the fizzling gun, taking advantage of the obscenity stuffed distraction. Gripping the wooden handle between her teeth, she labored to have her shattered hand hold it. She managed, convincing herself to ignore the immense throbbing running through the left portion of her body. She squeezed the trigger and watched as the bullet traveled in slow motion. It ripped through the material of his mask, impacting with his skull between his nose and right eye.

She dropped the gun to the floor and turned over, letting out a savage grunt into her pillow. Acelynn peeked over the edge of the bed, seeing more of his life force bled onto the wooden floor. Time was standing still.

She fell back on her bed - ironically, the way she wanted to before she noticed something was wrong. Her eyes glazed over, the harsh grey swirling back into a warm blue. She tried her best not to focus on the dead person lying on her floor. Closing her eyes as tightly as she could manage, she stretched her broken arm as far as it would go. She still had one more mission. Her other hand was still handcuffed to the bed, and she had no intention of breaking any more bones today. She reached into his front pocket, rummaging around with only her pinky and ring finger. She found nothing. No key to her lock.

With the ringleader no longer belonging to the land of the living, the associate fled. She hadn't even remembered the other one was there. Paradoxically, if it wasn't for the faint-heartedness of the other one, Acelynn might have ended up with more than a broken wrist and thumb, and a dislocated shoulder.

On the bright side, someone _had_ to hear those gunshots.


	2. Chapter 1: Old Friends

**Chapter One**

**Old Friends **

Don yanked his keys out of the ignition, ripped the car door open, and slammed it shut in one rage-filed motion. He was _supposed_ to have the night off. He was supposed to be having dinner at a quant Italian restaurant with Liz. But, no, he had to work. Again.

Megan slid from her own vehicle and fell instep beside him, walking in rhythm with him on the sidewalk. She looked to her boss, examining his tired expression when Don gave her the kind of sideways glance that made an encounter with his mood inevitable sooner or later. He allowed her judgment, although it annoyed him. He just didn't want to make the effort to talk about it. Instead, he clenched his jaw until the muscles in his cheeks protruded. He was _that_ annoyed.

Colby came jogging up to the two of them, having arrived at the crime scene only minutes before. Don looked towards him - silhouette outlined with the red and blue flashing lights of police cruisers and an ambulance - and focused his anger in that direction. "Hey guys," Colby sighed, noticing the glances Don was sending his way.

An LAPD officer was idly standing on the sidewalk, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Don released his rage from Colby, took aim at the officer, and fired. "What's all this?" he gruffly spoke, stuffing his hands in the loops of his belt and thrusting his arms downward.

"Burglary, assault, attempted murder," the young, twenty-something officer recited mechanically. He glanced quizzically at the three FBI agents in their street clothing, wondering if he should be telling them the information.

Don rolled his head on his neck, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his badge. He signaled for Morgan and Colby to do the same. "Special Agent Don Epps. Special Agents Colby Granger and Megan Reeves."

The officer nodded, somberly sipping from the Styrofoam coffee cup in his hand. "Thirty-two-year-old female is the victim."

"Well does she have a name?" Don snapped, increasingly irritated. Megan took a large sidestep away from him and his anger, Colby following her example.

"I wasn't given one. She refuses to talk to anyone until FBI showed up."

Don rubbed a hand over his face, fingers lingering over his mouth. The you officer was picking at his nerves, only giving him small snippets of information when the big picture was still out of place. "And?"

"She came home, found her apartment was ransacked and that the intruders were still inside. Needless to say, she put up quite a fight."

He nodded, somewhat appeased. "And why were we called in?"

"She's a former Bureau agent."

"Former?" Colby contributed, cocking his head.

"She lost her badge a little over a year ago. She's got a record," the uniform concluded, pivoting and pointing.

They made their way through the maze of police tape as Megan and Colby broke apart from their team leader, scanning the surroundings for anything resembling evidence. Just as he was about to branch off on his own, Ben saw _her. _He stared in awe for minutes, the hinge of his jaw falling and freezing in place. It was her. It had to be. Only she had that ink-black, curly hair in combination with those electric blue eyes that faded and glimmered with emotional charge. Only she had such gangly features, even though she would never be any taller than five foot seven. Only she was able to throw so much uncertainty into the world, yet not show and ounce of it on her face. He found himself unable to move, frozen in old memories.

_It was her. _There was no one like her.

- - - - -

Acelynn held her arm loosely to her chest, cradling her elbow in her knees to keep the splinted bones steady. She ran shaky fingers over her cracked hand, feeling her entire arm start to numb, but still throbbing with every beat of her heart. Bone fragments nestled tightly underneath her taunt skin, causing bumps and bruises to form splotchy patterns in her palm.

She heard footsteps approach her, but politely chose to ignore them. It was a cop, she was sure. Questions had been thrown at her ever since she had heard the first siren sound, and she dissuaded them with her silence. The case was going directly to the FBI, and she wasn't saying a word until she could calm herself down. Or until an agent got there. Whichever would come first.

A pair of feet just stood there - about a good three meters away - the person belonging to them watching her with such an intense gaze that it made the hair on the back of her neck stand straight on end. Her broken hand began to prickle, feeling a cool night wind whip against her face. Someone else had walked up to her in that instant, but she concluded that it was only a paramedic who had draped a blanket over her shoulders as she shivered to herself. The feet stood firmly, however, but she still refused to break her silence.

They were a pair of generic, black loafers attached to a pair of generic, pleated pants. A detective, maybe. Maybe just a plainclothes. Still, she would not say a word.

Then, a single step in her direction. Just one, a couple of inches as the feet hesitated to step again. It was enough to make her want to break her vow of silence and scream at whoever belonged to the generic shoes. All Acelynn wanted was to be left alone. Was that so much to ask? Hadn't she earned the right to get lost in her own thoughts instead of worrying about her broken hand, her messy apartment, or the damn dead guy that was currently being wheeled out of the building in a body bag.

No, she wouldn't scream. Instead, she would angrily turn her head and give the generic man a scowl so fierce it would rock his core. Then, she heard his voice.

"Ace? Ace, look at me…"

Her eyes lifted from the white bandages on her hand to the figure of the tall FBI agent in his street clothing. Generic street clothing. Looking almost the same on the last day she had seen him, in the school parking lot. His dark, tousled hair. His thoughtful eyes. His nervous tendency to touch and fuzz with his watch in an awkward situation. It was really him.

"Donny?" she managed in a voice so small, it was barely audible. She forgot all about the cold night air and shrugged the blanket off her shoulders so she could run to him as fast as possible. Her legs strained at the knees, but she managed. "Don, what are you…"

Don embraced her, collecting her into his chest as she shoved herself into him. Acelynn buried her face in his brand new shirt, mussing it with wet, leaking make-up. He was unable to comprehend what was transpiring, but he suddenly felt all his anger release from him as he reached to the back of her head to smooth away some stray curls.

He moved to clasp her shoulders tightly, forcing her tiny figure backwards until she was at arms length and he could squarely look her in the eye. She winced, groaned, and shrugged away from his touch, pain from her injured shoulder sprouting from his palm.

Don mentally did the math, or at least tried to. Looking at her, after so many years of curiosity and abandonment, he simply forgot how to count. One, Two…

He rolled his head back to break the intense stare that had at one another. "Where's Charlie when you need him?" he whispered, thinking that only himself could hear.

She did, however. Acelynn took a step towards him, hoping that he wouldn't reach out to touch her again. "Charlie? Where is Charlie? How is he? Is he okay? Is he…" the question flew out of her mouth before Don could even comprehend what she was saying.

Sixteen years.

He looked back at her, noticing her hand and bandaged arm for the first time. "It was you?" he asked, forgetting all about his previous annoyance and self pity all together. "Ace, listen to me. I'm with the FBI now. My team was assigned this case… if it was you…" The scared, feeble look in her pale blue eyes only confirmed his answer.

She nodded to further illustrate, managing to hold back more tears. The color in her eyes began to defrost, and the steely blue portals to her soul opened back up for him. His presence made her stronger. He made her feel safer. Finally able to let her guard down, she slipped into a trance-like state, giving herself the well needed time to worry about herself. "I want a shower," she recited as she thought it, her gaze reverting back to her hand. "I fell dirty."

A paramedic strutted up to them, waving the blanket she had tossed aside. "We need to get you to the hospital and get that hand taken care of, doll," he began in a fake-soothing voice.

"What happened, Ace?" Don spoke, his mind still in a fog.

"I don't remember," she sobbed, allowing herself to be led back to the ambulance. "I think I broke it." She had lied, and he knew it. She was trying to pare him for confusion, at least for the time being.

That was the Acelynn that Don remembered to fondly.

The paramedic laid an arm across her shoulders as if trying to comfort her is some sort of way. "Once we get to the hospital, you can get your arm set in a cast and you'll feel much better." Acelynn looked up to him, small whimpers coming from deep in her throat. The paramedic was middle-aged, good nature set into his face. He smile genuinely at her, doing his best to consol her.

She looked to the open doors of the ambulance, a younger female inside. She smiled, too, but not as softly. The one little gesture led Acelynn to a whole plethora of information about the girl. She was new, and probably shouldn't be aloud to touch Acelynn's arm if she wanted to avoid more pain. She was new, and the reality of the world had yet to set in for her. She was new, and she was so innocent to the painful world.

Don was still on the sidewalk behind her when she looked back. It was as if his legs were stuck to the cement, his mouth slightly open with his hands hanging at his sides.

It was all just so odd, he thought to himself. Acelynn could have been anywhere in or near Los Angeles for years. Now, she was living in the city - his city - right under his nose. He had no idea.


	3. Chapter 2: The Aftermath

**Chapter Two**

**The Aftermath**

She was put into a wheelchair upon entering, even given her own room. A white room. White sheets. White pillows. White walls. White hospital gown. They had even put a white cast on her arm. The blizzard that was the sterilized hospital. It was just so unnatural to her, and it made her extremely uneasy.

Acelynn stared up at the fluorescent lighting, finding nothing better to look at and not finding much else to do. She had willingly blocked off her sense of hearing, which had since faded in and out with her thoughts after the attack. She didn't want to hear the rhythmic beating of her heart monitor, or the code being called down the hall for a patient that was flat-lining. It was just so morbid, and it reminded her of her own fatality. It sent shivers down her spine, and added just a little more pain to her arm.

She told Don that she didn't know what happened, and the doctor backed up her story. He explained that her momentary lapse of memory was probably due to shock. He also said that he was going to call a psychologist for a consultation. The point was, however, that she _did_ remember. She just didn't want to. Acelynn always felt that she had to protect Don, lie to him to shield him from the gruesome details. But lying to him was only going to delay things, and Acelynn now regretted her decision. He was going to find out… eventually. He was the with the FBI team responding to her case. Things had to be different between them, there was no more protecting him. Now, he had to protect her.

They weren't in high school anymore, after all.

She had been in Los Angeles for a little over a year, right under his nose. She knew he was still there. He had to be. Los Angeles was Don's city, and he could never truly leave it behind. And Charlie was there, too. She should have called them from the airport the moment she stepped foot off the plane, but she couldn't bring herself to it. In those six months, she had just tried to get herself grounded, shake off her past and start over.

Again.

That's what she had tried to do in Boston.

_And look how that turned out_, she thought to herself as she sank deeper into her pillow. Acelynn was just starting to feel the effects of the drugs the doctors had given her for her arm - and a mild sedative to stop her from a possible panic attack - and she was liking it.

- - - - - -

Megan rapped on the glass door with two fingers, making a sound loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to disturb Acelynn if she was sleeping. "Ms. Faust?" she whispered, peeking her head into the room.

"You were at the crime scene," Acelynn yawned, blinking rapidly at the change in the lighting as she drew her attention to the FBI agent. As Megan allowed herself into the room, Acelynn spotted a police officer standing guard over her door, and the sight made her even more comfortable than the drugs.

"Yes. My name is Megan Reeves, and I was hoping to ask you a few questions if you're feeling up to it."

Acelynn repositioned herself, trying to reach for a glass of water on a tray just out of her reach. Megan stepped forward, handing her the glass. Acelynn nodded, sipping out of a straw.

"Do you remember anything that happened, Ms. Faust?" Megan asked, taking a seat in a chair - white - opposite Acelynn. Her profiler training was telling her several things about the woman before her just by the way she was sitting. The most important thing, though, that was jumping out at her was her training on dealing with civilian cases. In a civilian case, she was taught to address the victim with familiarity to add a sense of comfort. Use first names, hold the victims hand, etcetera. In this case, though, the setting was different. A former FBI agent was different from a civilian. Megan was sure that Acelynn knew the severity of the situation, and that changed things. Instead, she decided to take the formal route, and deducted that it was the right decision seeing that Acelynn had yet to correct her.

"It's kind of hard not to," Acelynn answered, drinking more deeply. She hadn't felt particularly thirsty, but the cool water on her throat felt nice.

Megan nodded. "What can you tell me about it? What where you doing before?"

Acelynn went back to staring at the light, a deep moan forming in her throat. "I went out to grab something to eat, got lost, then managed to find my way home. I just wanted to go upstairs and get some shut-eye, so much so that I didn't even notice that the door on the ground floor was open."

"And that struck you as unusual?"

"Once I remembered it, very. The super to my building absolutely refuses to leave that door unlocked for any reason. He was robbed a couple years ago, and has been really anal about it since."

"So how would someone without a key get into the building?"

Acelynn looked confused. "There aren't many people that come by, but someone living them could buzz them in… if that's what you mean."

Megan picked up on her strained stares. "I only ask because there was no sign of forced entry…"

"Well, there aren't ever really instances for that. A lot of elderly people live in the building, people who have no one, really."

Megan nodded. "Okay, so then what happened?"

Acelynn shifted, wincing with the movement. It seemed like her whole body was on fire, her bones aching and her skin tightening. "Um… I didn't notice the door, and I went up to my apartment. The door to my apartment was wide open, which I only noticed once I was inside. Like I said, I was dead-tired. The place was completely destroyed. Totaled. Everything was everywhere, but what caught my eyes was a line of pictures leading into the bathroom."

"A line of pictures leading into your bathroom?" Megan's voice was monotone, repeating what she as saying to clarify that she was really listening.

"Old pictures from when I was a kid, nothing important I don't think. I got consumed with them, though. Well, kind of. When I got to the end, the very last picture, one of the intruders was holding onto it."

"So he was looking through them…" she restated. "And you don't think there's any significance to that?"

Acelynn shook her head slightly. "No, I can't see why. He was probably just trying to get into my head, confuse me more than I already was."

Megan leaned back in her chair. Something about the way Acelynn was acting so casually concerned her. What's more, the way Acelynn was looking at Megan unnerved her. It was a cold, blank stare that seared through her professional demeanor and brought out all truths. That in all logic's point of view, was not something that favored Megan's position. It wasn't her in the hot seat, it was Acelynn. Yet, the victim seemed to turn it all around with only a glare of her brilliant blue eyes. "Did you recognize either of them?"

"No," Acelynn firmly shook her head. "They were wearing masks."

"The police officers that first responded to the scene of the crime reported that one of them was missing his mask… the one that you shot. The mask was pulled up over his face. Even though his face was somewhat disfigured because the shot that killed him was fired at such close range, the officers said that he was still recognizable."

Acelynn gave her a curt nod, her mind fixed on the bright lighting. Megan bit her bottom lip, wondering if she was pushing too hard. "Yeah, I recognized him," Acelynn finally spoke. "His name is… was… Kie Cavanaugh."

"And is there any reason that Kie would want to hurt you?"

Acelynn smiled, an expression that Megan didn't understand. "Yeah, he had a pretty good reason. I killed his brother. But, I'm sure you read all about that in my file."

Megan stared, an odd feeling enveloping the room. "I think that's enough for now…" she sighed, pushing herself from the chair. Acelynn was showing no more emotion. Not for the killing in Boston, and not the recent shooting. "I'm sure we'll meet again."

- - - - - -

So much could be said through silence, although Don found that nothing was being conveyed in his particular silence. He and Alan sat next to each other in the hospital parking lot, unable to look at each other. Naturally, his first instinct was to call him father after learning of the homecoming of his old friend, and then Charlie. Charlie, however, had far less details that Alan did.

Don shifted in the seat of his Suburban, both of them stuck staring at the entrance doors. Neither of them wanted to discuss the situation they were facing. Both of them were wondering if they should go inside or not - Don also contemplated whether he should have let his father into FBI business - but neither of them could find the words to say to one another.

"So…" Alan struggled, watching as a car drove past them. The driver parked not too far away from them, then got out and jogged towards the door. Only if it were that easy for _them_. "So, Donny… you're _completely_ sure it was _our_ Acelynn, right?" Alan sharply exhaled.

"Uh, yeah, Dad. I think I would know," Don retorted, leaning forward against the steering wheel as he continued to move uncomfortably. He could see Megan's car parked just a few spaces away, so he used the awkward silence to confirm him suspicions. He dialed her cell numbers, instantly knowing that she was inside when it went straight to voicemail. He figured he would have to wait to talk to Acelynn anyway. He was off duty. He was not "Super Fed Epps" anymore. Now, he was just plain Don Epps, civilian extraordinaire. "I don't know about you, but I really want to know just what the hell happened," he explained, talking more to himself than anyone.

"You mean at the crime scene?"

Don shook his head. "In Boston."

Don plucked his keys from his ignition with all the aggregation that he had in himself, almost snapping the key in half. He ran his fingers over the handle to the door, readying himself to get out. He looked to his father, running the teeth of his key through his hair. Alan nodded, reaching for the handle of his own door. Together, they made the plunge.

As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he regretted it. Megan came prodding out of the sliding glass doors to the hospital's entrance, walking in a way that particularly defined her. Don's neck shrunk into his shoulders, almost like he was trying to hid within himself. He leaned against his SUV, hoping she wouldn't see him. Unfortunately, Don had never had that much luck.

"Hey," she smiled, approaching him. "I was just going to call you back."

"Hi, Megan…," Don sighed, running his hand loosely down his face. "Well, I'm right here."

Megan squinted at him, her smile widening. She was unsure of what to make of his awkwardness, and it was a bit unnerving for her. "So I just got done questioning the vic," Megan started, flashing a tape recorder she had used to record the meeting. "The vic…"

Don held his hands up. "Her name is Acelynn," he commented rapidly, avoiding her gaze.

"What?"

"The victim. Her name is Acelynn Faust. Use her name."

"Okay… um… so it was more of a partial questioning, if anything. The doctor gave her something to calm her down and it was making her pretty drowsy, so I kept it short," she explained, fiddling with the buttons on her tape recorder.

Don rolled his neck, his head falling back. He reached for the recorder, then stuffed it in his pocket. "Listen, Megan, I'm off duty right now. This can wait until tomorrow, okay? Unless you think that it can't wait…"

Her mouth fell open a bit, but she caught herself. "No, nothing tells me that we should hurry but… if you're not here on business, then why are you here?"

Don shook his head, staring at his feet. Alan slowly approached from the other side of the car, eyes darting back and forth between the two to assess whether it was in the cards to interject or not. Megan saw him before Don, her eyes growing wide as she forgot her former question. Only for a moment, though. "Alan, it's good to see you!"

Alan humored her, letting her pull him into a friendly hug. He stepped back uncomfortably, a fake smile plastered on his prominent chin. "Uh, Donny, I'm just going to go inside."

Don shielded his eyes with his hand, his middle finger and thumb massaging his temples. "Yeah, Dad, sure. I'll be there in a minute."

Megan waited for Alan to walk far enough away to bee out of hearing-range, then sternly crossed her arms over her chest and glared in Don's direction. "Don, is everything okay? Alan? Charlie?"

"No, no! They're fine. It's just that… it's just that I kind of…. I kind of _know_ her."

"Know who?"

"Acelynn."

Megan's stern, strict glare deepened in her brow. "And just how well do you know the victim?"

"Her name is Acelynn," he repeated, finally looking her in the eyes. "And I've known her a long time. If you're asking whether our relationship from the past is going to get in the way of my better judgment, though, then I'd have to tell you that I'd be fine. Thanks. Let's leave it at that, huh?" Don knew the subject was going to come up sooner or later, but he didn't know he would be so annoyed by talking about it. He was feeling guilty - embarrassed, really - more than anything, and he didn't need Megan to psychoanalyze him right now.

He stared to walk past her, avoiding her eyes again. It was odd. Don, having worked with Megan for as long as he had, thought he knew her pretty well. He thought that Megan would have stopped him, disapproving of him taking on a case that he was so personally involved in. He thought she would have given him a speech on how it was somewhat unethical.

She didn't. The look on her face was an emotion that he had never seen her experience before. He would have placed it somewhere between pleased and reassured, but something about it was different. That worried him a little, even though it felt like it shouldn't have.


	4. Chapter 3: Welcome Home

**Chapter Three**

**Welcome Home**

Charlie had gotten Don's call at exactly two in the morning. He had been brief and vague, but the sense of urgency in his words had worried Charlie more than he could have expected from his big brother. Without even really thinking about it, he exclaimed his fears to a still sleeping Amita, threw on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and made sure to grab a jacket before leaving.

He had been on the road for all about five minutes before he even thought about what was going on. All Don had told him was that he should get to the hospital. Apparently, there was something going on that he would want to be present for. His thoughts lingered to his father.

He hadn't seen Alan when he had gotten home from CalSci. He and Amita had been there late, grading papers. Usually Alan kept the front light on for him, but this time all the lights in the house had been on. And he hadn't seen Alan anywhere. Or heard anything. Not even a floor creak.

Don met her at the front doors of the hospital, letting him in. "What is it? Is it Dad? Where is he?" he panicked, his voice raising as octave.

Don grabbed him by the shoulders, trying his best to calm his hysterical brother. "No… Dad's fine. I went by the house, but you weren't home. It's not Dad…"

"Then what?" Charlie urged.

Don stepped back. He figured it was best to just spit it out. "It's Acelynn, Charlie. She's back."

Charlie paused, frozen in his spot. "What?"

Don pouted, the lonely, abandoned expression falling across his little brother's face. "Yeah… it's Ace. There was a…situation…"

Surprise had vanished from Charlie's expression, his posture growing more rigid. "A situation? Was she involved?"

"She was the target, Charlie." He hadn't meant for this particular conversation to be so blunt and brash. Charlie had been the one most effected by Acelynn's sudden removal from their lives as children. He had been younger, Acelynn's age. Although Don had turned out to be a better friend for her than Charlie - through the high school years, because of how his experience differed so much from his brother's - Acelynn had been Charlie's academic confidant. Although she never quite had the handle Charlie seemed to have since birth, she was an English wiz-kid and had a deep passion for learning. Their relationship had made it much harder for Charlie to try to forget. Don always suspected that it would also make it harder for Charlie to forgive her.

Don stared at his brother, reaching out and clasping his shoulder for comfort. "You okay, buddy?"

Charlie looked to the sidewalk, his mouth slightly hanging open. "I don't know."

"Well," Don exhaled, "the best we can do is hear her out. Do you think you can do that?"

Charlie nodded hesitantly. "I don't know if I have anything to say to her."

"Just let her do the talking," he smiled, seeing the wheels of progress in motion.

- - - - - -

Acelynn was propped up in the bed, her arm stinging as her medication was wearing off. She attempted to move it, to help the circulation or something, but refrained after a shooting pain embraced her. Her hand and wrist were heavily casted in plaster, her entire arm hanging tightly to her torso in a sling. No matter how she positioned herself, she just could get comfortable. There was tremendous pressure on her arm, the swelling threatening to explode through the plaster.

She concluded she would have to get used to it.

She heard muffled sounds coming from outside the door, knowing someone was talking to the officer out her door.

Charlie entered the room last, proceeded by Alan and Don. He saw Acelynn start to grin when she saw his father and brother, but halted when they locked eyes. Charlie observed while Acelynn talked to Don, blocking out the conversation all together. He wasn't sure if he really cared what Acelynn had to say. What he was really concerned with was how she had changed. Boy, had she changed.

Charlie leaned against the wall, watching the scene set before fully entered it. Acelynn was sitting fully erect, gently rocking back and forth while her feet crossed at the ankle and her toes twiddled with the blanket covering her lap. Her wounded arm was the least of his concerns. He knew that his studious eye was making her nervous, and she would have it no other way. Hell, the girl deserved to be a bit edgy.

Memories ran through his mind as he stared. Sixteen years ago, Charlie would have woken up to run down the stairs and find Acelynn and Don already sitting at the breakfast table. He would be eating pancakes, loading on carbohydrates before the big game after school. She would have a big bowl of Corn Flakes in front of her, although she rarely ate breakfast. Don would be teasing her, flirting - even though he would never admit being attracted to a younger girl. She used to be so innocent as she tried to fight Don for the last bit of milk. So innocent, and so dainty.

Then POOF! She was gone.

She had grown considerably since those days. She had grown into her awkward, gangly features so she no longer seemed so unorthodox. She had transformed into an elegant picture of injured uncertainty, no matter how much of a façade she put on. The smile wasn't fooling anyone, least of all Charlie. She also had an air about her that seemed odd, like something was laying quite right with him. Now, she seemed to sink into the background, whereas in the old days she used be built with only confidence and vivacity.

Her dark curls covered the sides of her face, casting flattering shadows along her cheeks in the dim hospital lighting. The shadows made it almost impossible to see the run-off from her eye make-up, but Charlie saw it. Just like he saw the deep purple circles underneath her impossibly blue eyes.

Charlie shifted his weight, the floor shifting beneath him. He was suddenly aware that Acelynn was returning his researching looks. The room was suddenly vacant, except for her.

Alan came up behind him, leaning over his shoulder. "Go ahead, Charlie. Donny and I are going to get some coffee. Talk to her."

Before he could object, his father pushed him into the room and closed the door behind him. Charlie slapped on the door with his palm, as if he had been trapped into the room. He could have left with a simple turn of the handle. Instead, he walked to the center of the room and threw himself into a chair, content to listen.

Acelynn stared at him tenderly, like a baby brother. "What do you want to know, Charlie?" she asked, running shaky fingers through her hair. Charlie's eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, leaving curiosity lines lifting up through his hairline. "I know that look, Charlie. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Within reason," she added, knowing that she probably couldn't answer what Charlie was so desperately wanting to ask.

"I think we're past reason," Charlie responded in a small voice, feeling almost like he was a child again. He crossed his arms trying to seem more grown up, but nothing could hide the abandonment he was feeling.

"I guess," she replied, cocking her head in a sleepy daze.

Charlie felt a surge of anger grasp him, and he allowed himself to be swept up onto his feet. "Is that all you can say? You guess?"

"What do you want me to do, Charlie? I can't change the past, I can only explain it."

Charlie started pacing. How many sleepless nights had he had, staying awake wondering just what happened to the best friend he ever had? How many nightmares had he had, worrying about her? How many more was he going to have? It all added fuel to his fire. "How about you tell me why the hell you just up and went to Boston one day? How about telling me why you left without a word? How about you start explaining…"

Acelynn ignored his angry rant, dismissing it as just that. She had always been the one to pull the raw emotion from Charlie, and she wondered if there had been someone in her absence to do the same thing for him. She appreciated his emotions, all his anger meaning that he still cared. All Acelynn ever wanted to know during her leave - all she ever pondered to any significant length of time - was if she was still remembered and still loved.

"Do you remember that game we used to play when the power went out during a storm and there was nothing else to do? Twenty questions?" she asked, her voice soft and clear.

"What about it?"

"You want to play?"

Charlie rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder, a common sign of irritation from the Epps clan. He looked out to the hallway, seeing a nurse hastily storm away from a now open door. Alan and Don were standing in the frame, sipping coffee and talking in hushed tones. He glance back at Acelynn who could only view back at him with the same stoic expression. "We're a little old to be playing games, Ace," he shrugged.

"Nobody's ever too old to play games."

"Fine. Why not?" He sat back down, deciding to get some answers instead of wasting time. "Me first. Why'd you leave?" After all, that was the question resting in the foremost regions of his brain.

The chatter in the hallway grew eerily silent, Don and Alan purposely eavesdropping.

"Charlie, there was only so much your mom and dad could do for me as a kid. If anything, it seemed like I was becoming a bourdon… and when your mom started getting sick… and then…" Acelynn stopped herself before she said something hurtful, feeling a pain shooting through her heart for the woman whom she loved more than her own mother. "I grew up real fast, Charlie. I saw that you all needed to be a family."

"You _were_ part of our family," Charlie mumbled, making sure to put emphasis on the past tense. '

"No, I wasn't. I was just some neighbor kid your parents took off the street when I had no where else to go. My mother killed herself and my dead-beat father couldn't care less, but they were my family. My blood."

Charlie wanted to debate, but he quickly remembered the rule they had set forth as children. It was their own version. She would ask one question, he would answer. He would ask one question, she would answer. Follow-up questions has to wait until the next turn. He sat somberly, his next question stirring his mind as he calmly waited for her turn.

"What have you been up to?" she genuinely asked.

Charlie looked out the window, seeing the sun beginning to rise. Pinks and oranges swirled in his line of vision, mixing with purple clouds and the promise of blue skies. "I've been working on a lot of things… Mostly, I consult with Don's team a lot and teach at CalSci."

Acelynn shook her head in amazement. "Wow, the brain teaching other brains."

Charlie refused her invitation to open up a discussion. "Why didn't you tell anyone you left? Why did you leave us not knowing?"

_That was two questions_, Acelynn thought. She wrapped her fingers around the wrist of her cast, deliberating whether she should fully answer. She finally decided on: "I didn't know you didn't know". It was cryptic, but her eyes gave away the answer she had tried to suppress as they traveled to the door. Towards Alan. They both watched as he absentmindedly placed a protective hand on Don's shoulder. Acelynn didn't have to say anything else.

Alan was trying to shield his son from the bourdons he was soon going to bare.

Just as he had shielded his children sixteen years earlier…

It was Acelynn's turn again, but she was finished with questions. She had more, or course, but she wasn't sure if she wanted them answered yet. Or if he wanted to answer. "I think that's all you need for now, Charlie," she reasoned, turning her head from him in an attempt to ask him to leave.

Charlie took the hint, and Alan shuffled back into the room. "Everything okay with you two?"

Acelynn let a small laugh escape her vocal cords. "Alan Epps, you set me up," she accused.

"Don't blame me," Alan defended. "It was Don's idea."

Don entered the room next. "Charlie's going home." Alan nodded, giving his oldest a pat on the back. He left the room once more, Don taking a seat at the edge of the bed. His arm reached over her legs, their faces inches away from each other. His other hand reached to the back of his neck. "Ace… listen… the doctor says that you can be released whenever you feel like you can handle it, but we need to find you a place to stay. Somewhere safe." Then he hesitated, something Don didn't find himself doing often while trying to discuss business. "Charlie agreed to let him stay at the house if you want. We'll have you one twenty-four hour surveillance and… well… your old room is still there…"

Acelynn shook her head rapidly. "I don't want to go back there, Don. There's too many memories and…"

"I know," he interrupted, his hand moving to cup her knee. "I told him that, but I figured I'd let him offer anyway. First, though, I have to take you to the FBI office for some questions. Then we can get your living situation taken care of."

Acelynn bobbed her head in agreement. "I really just want to shower. The crime scene collection guys got everything they needed from me… I just want to get the scum off me," she whined.

"After," he replied, removing his hand from his neck and reaching for hers. "I promise."

The room fell silent for several moments, although it seemed like it was hours. It was all just too weird, and took much for Acelynn to take in all at once. "God, I can't handle this," she cried, breaking the silence.

Don's eyes met hers, something brewing between his brown pigment. "You can't handle this? Ace, I haven't seen you in sixteen years. Sixteen years!" he repeated to confirm it for himself. "You think this is easy for me? You think it was easy for Charlie or Dad? Charlie moved on… he has a career, his work. And Dad! I mean, it was hard enough on him when my mom died… And what about me?! You think this is easy for me to see you like this? Knowing what happened to you, but not really _knowing_? Knowing that you were in Los Angeles for a year, right underneath me?"

"Don…" she tried to interject.

Don ignored her. "Do you remember the last conversation we had? I do… I remember it like it was yesterday. I have to say, I'm not a professional, but I'm pretty sure if fucked me up somehow to tell you what I did and then have you just leave…"

"Don, that's not what I meant!" she yelled over his raving, drawing herself away from him. "This is why I didn't contact you yet. I wasn't ready, and I knew that you and Charlie wouldn't be either. Please, Don, don't make me explain myself now. Not now…"

Don lifted his hands in the air, then tucked them behind his head. "Fine, not now. But later. Definitely later."


	5. Chapter 4: The Big Picture

**Chapter Four**

**The Big Picture **

Don sat next to Acelynn in the interrogation room, watching her stare into her hands. It was early. Very early. He hadn't slept at all the night before, staying up with her all night. Her arm prickled still, and she would wince every now and then. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, watching her intently.

"I'm fine, Don." The words sputtered out of her mouth before she could even really think about them. She was fine. Physically. Mentally, she had always been a few marbles short of a full set. She understood Don's concern, and played along with him while he held her hand in her lap when he was sure no one was looking. It would do him good to try to comfort her, seeing as how it was comforting him in the process.

If there was anything wrong with Acelynn, it was that the truth couldn't get out fast enough. Still, she sat contently as she waited for Megan to enter the room. She suspected that there were also people behind the one-way mirror behind her.

"Acelynn," Don spoke, trying to assert his authority in front of his team, "I need you to tell me everything. Absolutely everything."

"But I already told you what happened." She felt like she was in grade school again, being chastised for something trivial and getting her recess privileges taken away.

Don shook his head violently. "No, no I don't. I have a picture, but there are pieces missing. I have sorted details. There's no real understanding about what went on yesterday. It seems that this ties into your past in Boston, and that's something else I don't know about. The thing is, no one will give me information on your case in Boston or your file. The security clearance is above my head. _You _have to tell me, Ace. _You_ have to help me understand," he pleaded, leaning forward onto his knees.

But where to start?

She folded her hands in her lap, her fingers entwining while she guiltily thought about what to say. She sat silently in the glass room for a moment, Ben stepping outside. Even still, she felt like all eyes were on her. Staring eyes. Eyes boring through her with hot, intense gazes.

She spotted Don talking to Charlie, balancing a stack of papers in his arms. They were undoubtedly going to talk about what they were going to hear. Both of them would want to know the whole truth. Both of them would want to hear it in person, and she wanted both of them there.

Don left Charlie with a pat on the back, and reentered the room to close the blinds from prying eyes. He grazed past the mirror, Acelynn swiveled in her chair to take a look. She could sense Charlie standing there, even though she could only see herself. She gave him a weak smile and wiggled her fingers in a slight wave. Then, she turned back to Don and Megan.

"The beginning?"

Don raised his head in response, seating himself and resting his chin on his fist.

"Let's go back sixteen years, then" she sighed. "You know my mom and dad were divorced. You know how my mother killed herself, but you don't know why. I mean, why should she have? She was a well respected pediatrician at a private practice. She could make her own hours, making time for herself and time to be a mother. She had the best life of anyone I knew, or so I though. But yet, even though she seemed perfectly happy, she hung herself."

"Ace…" Don couldn't begin to imagine what she was going through, reliving it all. He remembered, too. Walking Charlie and Acelynn home from school, quickly being ushered into the house by his father. Alan talking to police officers. Holding Acelynn's hand as she cried to go home.

_Acelynn, sweetheart, you can't go home. Not yet… not until…_

His mother's words rang out through his head, unknowing then. Now he knew that is she went home, she would have walked in on her mother hanging from the ceiling by one of her father's Sunday neckties that her mother kept for sentimental value after the divorce.

"Ace, let's move one," he directed, looking to Megan for support. She sat stone-faced, just watching.

"No, I have a point. Since I had no one else… We grew up together then, your parents being so kind to take me in and help me through school. All the way up until high school. On my fifteen birthday, I got a call from my until-then absent father. Well, your dad got the call. My father was furious. He claimed that no one tried to contact him, although your mother had been writing him letters every week since it happened. Even though he was irate, he explained everything to me.

"Apparently, when I was too young to remember, my mother took me away from him at one point. There had been a family history of mental illness, and it seemed to be catching up with her. She went on medication, but she still relied on him to help her with it. Even after the divorce. Well, he got the opportunity to go to Scotland and take some pictures for some magazine… photography was always his passion, and he was quite good at it… anyway, my mother told him that she would be fine."

"But she wasn't," Don finished for her, haring her voice start to crack.

"Yeah, well… Scotland turned into Ireland. Ireland turned into the Himalayas. The Himalayas turned into some place in South Africa, where he lived for a while without cell phone reception. Even though he was out of the picture, he was still really mad that no one was able to contact him. When he got back to California, he packed up what we had left of the house - which was all located in your parent's garage, if you don't remember - and we left for Boston."

Don blinked at her, almost unbelieving. Wouldn't he have known if her father was back? Wouldn't e have seen a moving truck? Heard her leave? Something? "And since he was your biological father…"

"There was nothing Alan could do. I had to go with him. I wanted to tell you guys so much… at least say goodbye… but Alan thought it would be better if he broke it to you," she shrugged. "I guess he never thought of something to say about it."

Megan leaned forward, knowing that the back story was out of the way. "So what happened in Boston then, Acelynn? What happened with Kie Cavanaugh and his brother?"

"I grew up. I was basically on my own half the time because my father was always working and didn't really give a shit. I went to college, he paid for it. I studied criminology and psychology because I seemed to have a knack for it. I was quite good at what I did, I have to say. I went to the police academy, got a job at a precinct, and worked as a detective in the narcotics unit.

"Then, one day, a FBI agent was knocking on the door of my one room apartment to ask if I could consult with them on a case. The Commissioner liked me and my work, so he suggested me for the assignment.

"I got so involved with my consulting work, I'd just bury myself. Once I got a taste of the FBI, I wanted the whole thing. I'd try to solve my cases like crazy to impress the big wigs to maybe get a job. I'd forget to eat, sleep… sometimes I even had to force myself to breath. I was making the job who I was instead of just what I did. When they offered me the real badge - after going through general training at Quantico - it got worse. I was obsessed with bringing justice. But I loved it, so I wasn't about to change anything.

"Then I got the case about Leo Cavanaugh.

"It was originally a drug bust, so the FBI let my team take care of it. I was on a team with a couple of guys, including our team leader, Jack Callahan. Jack and I took a ride to Cavanaugh's house one day.

"He wasn't home, but we had a warrant. We didn't find any drugs, but what we did find was so much more important. Ransom tapes. New ones, like he just taped them moments before we got there and didn't have a chance to get rid of them yet. A little girl - a twelve-year-old named Sasha Fennerman - was plastered all over the screen, bleeding and crying. There had been a series of child kidnappings lately, but this wasn't connected to that… I just snapped after I saw that. There were pictures of her everywhere. There was video footage of him breaking her arm, hitting her, pulling out hair," Acelynn sighed, fighting the urge to sob. She paused, composed herself, then let out with a deep snarl of hatred, "Nothing that horrible should ever befall a child."

"We took it all back to the office and opened a brand new case with the assistance of another team. The only problem was that this guy was basically untouchable.

It turns out, that he is the leader of a satanic cult named Diablo Viene, which means 'devil come' in Spanish. It's a fake cult, unknown to those involved within it. Leo used it as a religious front to launder all the money he got from his drug running operations. He kidnapped poor Sasha because one of his members, Sasha's father, found out about the scam he was running. He was going to run and tell everything, and that was going to break everything apart for Leo."

"So he kidnaps the little girl and tortures her to warn her father not to go running his mouth…" Megan assisted.

Acelynn agreed. "Exactly. So we couldn't get near this guy. It seemed that everywhere we turned, people were pat of this fake religion. Cops, lawyers, doctors, judges. Basically, everyone and their cousin ere giving money to this guy."

Don shifted uncomfortably. "So then what?"

"One day, Jack goes to the bastard's house, hoping to scare him a little. Maybe, just maybe if he was afraid, then he would slip up and we'd be able to make a case. So he goes alone, and I never hear from him again. They say he was shot with his own gun. They say he went to Leo's house to apologize for all the trouble we've been causing him, then discretely shot his brains out in his car. Well, you can imagine that that didn't sit well with me.

"I took over the case, turned up the heat. I had his younger brother, Kie, followed from dawn till dusk. I had moles in the religion. Everywhere. I had enough substantial evidence to convict the asshole, but my superiors wanted more. The District Attorney said he couldn't present a decent case on substantials… and he was right. Even the ransom tapes could be the product of a couple hours in front of the computer… maybe a scene for a movie or some stupid shit like that.

"Either way, Leo would have hired some expensive lawyer to represent him and walked away scotch-free. The worst part would be that once we tried him, we wouldn't be able to bring the case back up on the same charges even if we had found evidence.

"I had to give them solid evidence, and I was going to.

"It turned into a game between me and Leo, and Leo always seemed to be just one step ahead. Sasha eventually died from all her unattended wounds, and that little girl's body was just what I needed. But where was I going to find it?

"If Leo was as smart as I though he was, he would have disposed of it in a way so no one would ever be able to find it. But I couldn't think like that. You can't in cases like that, right? So I got more man-power, although my boss's said that I was being a huge pain in the ass. A couple of the men died, as they were told to possibly expect. I mean, I know that sounds horrible, but… it was all for the greater good. I only took volunteers so…

"Finally, my superiors got tired of all my whining, so they got a judge to grant me another search warrant. It was my last, they told me, and if I didn't find anything I was supposed to close the case. The day that the warrant was placed in my hands was the day that Leo decided he needed to skip a train to Mexico. Unfortunately for him, I was the one to catch up with him.

"He confessed everything to me, but it didn't mean anything. He was _smiling_, practically dancing when he admitted to all the horrible things he did. I couldn't do anything. There was no one else to prove that he had confessed. I was up shit's creek without a paddle.

"He then proceeded to turn his back on me, so I grabbed my gun. I told him to stop, several times. When he didn't, I shot him. The bullet ended up killing him.

"A new agent, that went by the name of Angela Danbury, was the first one on the scene after that. She was hired to take my place after I took Jack's position, and she was in a skittish situation. If my case for killing an unarmed, technically innocent man was ever brought to trial, she'd have to take the stand and say that she saw me standing over a dead man. But, thank God, the trial didn't got that way. I did my two hundred and fifty hours of community service and was sent on my merry way. After all, there had been a case open on him at the time, and it turns out I wasn't the only one investigating him.

"After I was sacked, Angela continued the investigation of the drug running. That led her to find that Jack didn't shoot himself. She traced the gun that killed him all the way back to one that Leo happened to have. He registered the firearm in Texas, and kept it there in his winter home.

"Massachusetts may frown on the death penalty, but Texas is trying to speed up the process. A judge reviewed my case after that. The FBI turned the information on Leo's death into highly confidential information, only accessible to those highest up in the ranks. My record was just about wiped clean without being wiped clean. Well, just about."

Don leaned back in his chair, his face not showing all the disbelief in humanity that had buried deep down in the back of his mind. He watched as Acelynn's defenses broke down a little more with every well-thought word. His hand moved up to cover his mouth, unable to think of something to say in return.

Megan helped. "What about Sasha's body?"

"We found it eventually. She had been dismantled, with no evidence to convict Leo or anyone else. There was a man that confessed, Harry Kline, a pedophile who was few colors short of a crayon box, even though we know it wasn't him. Peopled wanted justice, though. He's currently serving a life sentence in a mental institution for the criminally insane." Acelynn slouched, leaning forward over the table. "You do believe me, right?" She couldn't tell by the blank look on his face.

"How does Kie tie into all of this?"

"After Leo's funeral, Kie approached Angela and asked about what she had found so far. He played the grieving family member who had no idea about his brother's exploits, and she felt that he had the right to know. She didn't share my intense paranoia, and let as much information slip as she could. It was a stupid, rookie move, but what could I do about it once it was done? Hell, I wasn't even supposed to keep up with the case, but I had a few friends. As time went on, I found out that Leo was everything but what we thought he was. He was only a henchman, a grunt. The pretty boy behind the cult name."

"Then who was the ringleader?" Megan asked.

"Kie. Or so they thought at that point. It was the next logical step, and he got involved with the whole thing in high school, peer pressuring his friends into joining along with him. They told their friends, their friends told their friends… etcetera etcetera."

"And the evidence was already used against his brother, which made it less credible," Don concluded for himself.

Acelynn stared Don in the eye, a look that made him want to leap up and hug her. He refrained, looking past her into the mirror. Acelynn turned too as tears began to fill her eyes. She held them back as much as she could. "You believe me, too. Right, Charlie?"

Charlie nodded to himself, suddenly feeling horrible for all the bad feelings he had felt over the years regarding her. He could see the tears in Acelynn's eyes, even if she refused to release them. He knew they were genuine.

Megan stood, her thumb nail in her mouth as she thought. "So, Kie had a grudge against you for killing his brother. The one who was taking all the falls for him?"

"Not him, their father. Or, stepfather, actually. See, he was the real one behind it even though the FBI didn't to that conclusion for a while. His name is Jimmy McCauley, and he needed a new right hand man. Someone who would take the blame for him, without knowing they were taking the blame. Someone who would watch him do sinister things and not say a word. That's what my profile on him said, at least, and I firmly stand by it." She breathed a sign of relief, glad to have everything out in the open. She was also glad that she didn't have to talk anymore if she didn't want to.

Megan walked over to Acelynn's side, crouching down so they were face to face. "Acelynn, do you think it was McCauley who was in your apartment with Kie?"

Acelynn shook her head. "No, definitely not. It was a woman, or at least it looked like the frame of a woman. Small, dainty. She was strong, though. She gave me a good fight at first, before Kie…"

Don rose, seeing drops of water leaking from the corners of her eyes. "I think that's it. For now, at least."

Megan was the first to leave, brushing past him as she whispered, "I'll check it all out."


End file.
